


Decorum.

by coquetteauxbasbleu



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 13:25:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7173671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coquetteauxbasbleu/pseuds/coquetteauxbasbleu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sole Survivor Audrey Alden is finding that sometimes, being the General of the Minutemen means getting drawn into some petty arguments...And Danse decides to offer some brief distraction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decorum.

_Tetanus._

      The word filtered through Audrey’s mind as she ran as fast as she could towards the bridge, the broken concrete of Sanctuary’s single road digging into the bare soles of her feet. She hadn’t had time to grab her boots, and was barely dressed; it wasn’t even 5am yet. She’d heard the shouting, a few yells, and launched herself out of bed, grabbing the closest pants (hers) and shirt (Danse’s), and her laser rifle.

     The adrenaline, and fear, didn’t kick in until she heard Danse behind her, his heavy boots thudding against the ground. He’d had the sense to grab his own footwear, apparently, before running towards some unknown threat.

     A handful of settlers were already at the bridge that lead into Sanctuary; Audrey had fortified the entrance to the settlement three years ago when she’d first returned with Preston, building turrets and towers, and had steadily improved on them since. The machine guns hadn’t fired; no alarms had sounded. 

     “What is going on here? What happened? Who’s dying? Because if I just sliced my foot open running over here, somebody had better be dying.” It wasn’t like Audrey to lose her temper, particularly with settlers, but her foot was screaming with pain. 

     A mere boy, maybe 17, stepped forward and wiped the sweat off his acne-scarred forehead. “W-well, ma’am, I was on watch and they…um, well…they took her, m-ma’am. General. P-Paladin. Ma’am.” 

     “Who? Who are they? And who did they take? Why didn’t you sound the alarm?” Audrey’s mind started to spin. Raiders? Supermutants? Gunners? Surely not. Any of the above would have caused far more noise. There would have been gunfire. The turrets would have picked up, even if the poor kid had frozen on the spot.  

     “They took Belle, ma’am…um. G-Ginge and Sully. From Breakheart.” 

     “Do you mean to tell me, Soldier, you raised all this commotion over a dog?” Danse spoke up from just behind her, his voice heavy with implied threat. Preston may have been the General’s right-hand man and Colonel of the Minutemen, but after the defeat of the Institute, Audrey had made Danse a Captain and most of the Minutemen took him more seriously as a soldier, anyway. 

     “B-but C-Captain Danse, s-s-s-sir, that’s why I didn’t…didn’t sound the alarm…”

     “The…dog. The dog. Not even the GOOD dog. The stupid, useless dog that can’t be trained that you idiots have been arguing over for MONTHS. Jesus. Fucking. Christ. I…Shit.” Audrey look down at her foot. Blood was seeping from beneath it and pooling on the concrete. 

     “We’ll deal with this later.” Danse scooped Audrey up as if she weighed nothing and, cradling her against his bare chest, carried her back to their house at the end of the cul-de-sac. Once there, he set her on the edge of the old dining room table she’d salvaged somewhere and gently lifted her foot. 

     “Running through the Wasteland without foot protection is foolish, General.” He sighed and went to a cabinet in the kitchen area, retrieving a stimpak, some gauze, and a pair of tweezers. “This will sting–”

     “When has any of your doctoring ever not–GODDAMN DANSE!” Audrey clawed at the edges of the table and flopped backwards with a groan when Danse displayed the inch long shard of glass he’d just pulled from the bottom of her foot. He jabbed her with the stimpak, eliciting another string of profanity.

     “Show some decorum, General.” 

     “Please tell me that was some of your trademark dry wit.” Audrey lifted her head up off the table just enough to look at him as he was bandaging her wound. He didn’t look back, focused on his task, but the quirk at the corner of his mouth was enough of an answer.

     Letting her head fall back again, Audrey ran her fingers through her bangs, sighing. “If I lose my foot over that stupid dog–”

     “You don’t have much faith in my medical training. I’ll have you know my field aid has saved lives. Including yours.” Scooping her up again, Danse carried her back past the kitchen and into the bedroom, setting her down on the bed, propped against a mountain of pillows, before sitting next to her. “The stimpak should keep any infection at bay, should the puncture caused by the glass have been too deep to adequately disinfect.” 

     Audrey sighed and wiggled out of her pants and started to take her (Danse’s) shirt off, but he stopped her. It was just a flannel shirt; much too big for her, and she’d only managed to get it about half buttoned before she gave up and started running. “Don’t…I like it on you.”

     Audrey raised an eyebrow, the deep scars around her eye pulling tight. “Do you, now? I was going to try and get…” She picked her pip-boy up off the nightstand and checked the time. “28 minutes of sleep before I go deal with this dog argument business, but…It’s been three years and I’ve never slept past 5:30 in the morning. Maybe we could…sleep in. For once.” 

     Danse coughed the way he always did when he was about to say something he thought was off-color. “I wasn’t thinking of sleeping,” he mumbled, looking at her from the corner of his eye. 

     Even in the dim lighting of the room, Audrey’s green eyes seemed to glow. “Just watch the foot, big guy.” She didn’t let her guard down outside the confines of their home, but here, she winked at him, and stretched out, her lean figure catlike in her languor. 

     Danse kicked his boots off and leaned back against the absurd pile of pillows she insisted upon having on the bed (it was her “nest,” she claimed. If she wanted to bury herself in a pile of pillows and blankets, she would do so), wrapping one arm around her waist to pull her against him. 

     A little hum of appreciation slipped past her lips as Audrey spread her hands out against his bare chest, testing the familiar firmness and warmth. Even after his banishment from the Brotherhood of Steel, Danse had never gone a day without continuing his strict fitness regimen, and was as fit as the day she had met him. Maybe it was because he was a synth; maybe he’d never lose that physique. He wasn’t supposed to age, afterall. But she’d seen the little creases appearing at the corners of his eyes, the worry lines on his forehead, and a few grey hairs showing at his temples. Not nearly as many as had appeared at her temples, to be fair…but they were there. 

     His heavy, warm breath against her ear made Audrey shiver, her breath quickening as he slid one hand up along her ribcage, under the haphazardly-buttoned shirt, and ran a thumb over the curve of one of her small breasts, then circled it over a quickly tightening nipple. 

     Against her thigh, it was plainly obvious beneath his fatigues how firmly Danse had meant it when he said he hadn’t planned on sleeping. Audrey fumbled with the button of his pants as she nipped at his shoulder, grumbling impatiently as her fingers kept slipping. 

     Succeeding, she pushed them over his hips, and his briefs with them, shifting herself to the side so he could kick them away before she wrapped a leg around his waist. 

     “Audrey. Those…get them off. Now.” His voice was harsh as he hooked a finger in the waistband of her panties; the same directive, militant voice she’d heard him use on the battlefield. 

     “Is that an order, sir?” She ran her fingers through his hair, then dragged her nails down his neck and along the muscular ripples of his back. 

     “I’m not your CO.” He rolled onto his back, pulling her so she was straddling his hips. “I can’t give you orders. All I can do is make requests that you’ll want to comply with.” 

     Audrey’s breath hitched in her throat as she felt his cock straining against the thin layer of cotton between them, and she shifted long enough to do away with the offending garment before settling herself back over his hips, her hot, wet center rubbing against him teasingly. 

     “Right now?” She hissed through her teeth, lifting herself up on her knees so that he just barely touched her. 

     Danse didn’t answer; he gripped her hips and pulled her downwards, bottoming out in one long, deep stroke. Her gasp tore through him like lightning as she fell forward to press her mouth to his, gripping the pillows on either side of his head as she rolled her hips to the rhythm of his thrusts. 

     Neither of them was interested in dragging things out; rolling with her, Danse pinned her to the mattress, holding her wrists above her head as he rocked back and forth with her, Audrey’s keening getting softer and more desperate as she pressed her face against his neck. Finally her entire body went rigid and her thighs tightened around him, her climax rolling through her like a wave. 

     Danse wasn’t far behind her, her orgasm pushing him over the edge. He let go of her wrists and wrapped his arms around her as he growled, thrusting deeply and holding still against her, his heart pounding in his chest and his eyes closed tight. "Fuck," he grumbled as Audrey bit his shoulder and shifted her hips so he sank incrementally deeper into her. 

      “Show some decorum, Captain,” Audrey whispered against his ear, eliciting a snort in response. 

      They laid there for several moments, not moving, just breathing, before Danse coughed and shifted slightly to get his weight off of Audrey’s delicate frame. 

      Curling up against him, Audrey sighed contentedly, pulling a quilt over their bodies, ignoring the reddish sunlight beginning to filter through the threadbare curtains. Tracing the line of his jaw, rough with stubble, with her fingertip, she let the corner of her mouth tilt upwards. “Good morning. Your task for today, Captain, is to get some sleep. Then we’ll deal with the dog.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wrote some smut.  
> Why? Because I keep wanting to include some sorta smutty scenes in fiction I’m writing, and I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. So I made myself sit down, and write some smut for no other reason than the sake of writing some damn smut.  
> SMUTTY SMUT SMUT SMUT.  
> I don’t think it’s very good, but I did it. I didn’t edit it really. At all. Enjoy. Or don’t. Audrey and Danse did, I guess.  
> Feedback is greatly appreciated.


End file.
